High School Avenging
by wattamelon19
Summary: Natasha Romanoff has self esteem issues and braces, Clint Barton is the head of the Archery club, Bruce is a science geek with serious anger issues, Tony is the rich kid, Steve is captain of the football team, and Thor is obsessed with woodshop, or actually, a huge hammer they use in wood shop. It doesn't help that the adults at this school seem to be involved in something...
1. The one where it was 3:14 AM

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers…or the show **_**Criminal Minds**_**. (Unfortunately -.- )**

The day Natasha Romanoff started school at Lake Norman High was a very weird day. For starters, one of the brackets on her 12-year molars decided it wasn't going to be glued to the tooth anymore, and it just popped off with a loud _crunch_. That was what woke Natasha up at exactly 3:14 AM. She had figured that 3:14 was close enough to 6:00, which was the time her alarm would've gone off, so she just stayed up and watched a few episodes of _Criminal Minds._ Natasha could relate to the agents on that show; she had dealt with people like that before. Actually, she had dealt with people worse than that before, and she was only fifteen.

See, Natasha Romanoff had been raised as a spy. She'd been on all sorts of missions before her father had decided she needed to live a "normal, teenage life in America", which was code for 'Be a foreign exchange student so I don't have to deal with you when I'm working'. Natasha didn't mind being sent away; the further away from her father, the better. As long as there was a good church nearby, she was good. Also, her father had managed to pull a few strings so Natasha could live alone. That was also good.

Natasha started to get ready around 5:30 because she couldn't sit still anymore. She had purple circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, her braces looked especially awful that morning, and her short, red hair couldn't decide if it wanted to be straight or curly. Yes, her hair had a mind of its own. She had thrown on some black jeans and a black shirt (no, she wasn't Goth; other colors just weren't necessary), and then crawled around under her bed looking for her black combat boots. She wondered when the awkward stages ended.

**OoOOoO**

"So your homeroom will be in room 87-B, dear, and oh my, they've got one of your electives mixed up, hon. I'll just have to call Mrs. Klein about that, surely you don't want to be put in wrestling?" an elderly lady named Mrs. Griffiths was asking. Natasha tried to keep from rolling her eyes. Was it so strange that she wanted to be put in wrestling?

"Just leave it, I'll be fine," Natasha said. She tried to pull her schedule away from Mrs. Griffiths, but the lady just wouldn't let go.

"Natalie, sweetie, you'll be the only girl," Mrs. Griffiths said. Natalie. Natasha was going to have to get used to being called that; her father had made her go under the alias of Natalie Rushman when he sent her to America.

"It's fine, really," Natasha said, shrugging her shoulders. At least she had spoken English so much that she didn't have an accent. That would be embarrassing.

"If you're sure," Mrs. Griffiths said reluctantly, handing Natasha her schedule.

"I'm sure, thank you," Natasha said as she walked out the door.

"Dear, your classroom is the other way!" Mrs. Griffiths called after her. _Oh, right_. That way. Her classes didn't seem to be too hard, and by pure luck, Spanish class was full, so she had been put in Russian class. Ha. Easy A in that one. (No, not the movie).

_86 A, 86 B, 87 A, 87 B. _Natasha stopped abruptly at her classroom, not daring to peek in through the window. She was a little nervous, but she knew Jesus would be with her through this whole day, so she shook the nervousness off. Slowly, she opened the door and walked to the teacher's desk, ignoring the stares she was receiving.

"Mrs. Abernathy?" Natasha asked, not bothering to look at her schedule to make sure she was right, She had memorized it already.

"You must be our new student! It's Natalie, right?" Mrs. Abernathy asked excitedly. Obviously, this school didn't get too many new students.

"Yeah, Natalie Rushman," Natasha said, twisting a strand of hair with her fingers. She always did that when she was nervous.

"Well, we don't do much except talk in homeroom, so have a seat wherever until we change class," Mrs. Abernathy said, glancing at some boys sitting in the back of the room. Natasha surveyed the room, looking for an empty table. (There were two people to one table). She preferred to sit alone, but every table had at least one student in it. She set her bag down on one and slid into the seat. The girl sitting beside of her smiled at Natasha, who returned the smile. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes, and had on a lot of wristbands. Most of them said names of bands, but there was one that said: _Identity, Caswell 2011_. For some reason, that bracelet stood out to Natasha.

"Hey, I'm Brittany," the girl said, picking some nail polish off of her fingernails.

"Natas-uh, Natalie," Natasha said, mentally scolding herself for almost giving her real name. Your name is Natalie, Natasha!

"Still trying to figure out your name?" Brittany asked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, shut up," Natasha said. She was beginning to like Brittany.

"I like your boots, where did you get them?"

"Russia."

"Russia?"

"Yeah, I've lived in a lot of places." Most of homeroom continued this way, with Brittany asking all sorts of questions and Natasha answering. Natasha didn't mind the questions because Brittany didn't ask any personal ones, like "So, have you ever been on a top-secret spy mission?" Yeah, that would've been a bad question to ask.

The bell rang after forty-five minutes, and Natasha gathered her things. She had her Russian Language class next. She couldn't help but smile to herself about that one. Brittany showed her the classroom, which was already filled with students. Oh great, another awkward I'm-the-new-student moment.

"Ah, you're miss Rushman?" the teacher, Mr. Ladowski, asked. Natasha nodded, and he pointed to a table. Natasha sat down and looked at the guy sitting beside her, who was shooting pencils with a rubber band. He was hitting some guy in the back, and the guy was just throwing the pencils back to him. Mr. Ladowski called the class to order.

"One day Barton, you just wait," the guy that was getting hit with the pencils hissed. The boy sitting beside me just smiled and rolled his gray-blue eyes.

"So, miss Rushman, tell us a little about yourself before we start," said Mr. Ladowski. Oh, no. Natasha was afraid this was going to happen. She prayed that her voice wouldn't shake or something, and then stood up.

"I don't really have that much to tell," Natasha said, hoping to get out of this.

"Well, you could go with your name, for starters," Mr. Ladowski suggested. A few people chuckled, including the guy that had gotten hit with the pencils. The guy that was sitting beside of her just looked at Natasha curiously.

"Natalie Rushman," Natasha said, clenching her jaw.

"Do people call you Nat?" Mr. Ladowski asked. Natasha bit the inside of her jaw. Nobody had ever called her Nat before; usually they called her Natasha, and if they did shorten her name, they called her Tasha, which Natasha didn't like.

"Nah, it's always been my full name," Natasha said, wondering if he would stop asking questions any time soon.

"Okay, I won't torture you anymore, you can sit down," Mr. Ladowski said. _Yes!_ "Mr. Stark, will you hit the lights for me?" The boy that the pencils were directed at stood up and ambled slowly to the light switch. Mr. Ladowski pulled a projector screen down.

"You'll need to take notes miss Rushman." Natasha nodded, and pulled out a piece of paper. She wouldn't need to take notes.

"Write your name and stuff on it, he'll take it up at the end of class," the guy beside of Natasha whispered.

"He takes notes up at the end of class?" Natasha asked quietly.

"Don't ask, he's a weird teacher," the guy said. Natasha shrugged and scribbled _Natasha Romanoff _at the top of the paper before mentally smacking herself and changing it to _Natalie Rushman_. The guy beside of her, whose name was Clint Barton –he had written it on the top of his paper- wrote something on the table. Natasha glanced at it, and then bit her lip. **(A/N: The bold italicized words are Barton's; the plain italicized words are Natasha's).**

_**Natasha Romanoff?**_

_Don't ask_.

_**I wasn't planning on it. **_

_ Good. _

_**Where are you from? **_

___I've been to a lot of places short-term, but I lived in Russia the longest. _

_**What? How'd you manage to get into a Russian Language class if you already know how to speak it?**_

_ Spanish class was full._

_**Lucky.**_

Natasha smiled as he erased the words. She didn't know why she told him where she was from, but she did. She just felt like she could trust him, even though she had known him for three minutes.

"Hey, Mr. Ladowski?" Clint asked, interrupting the teacher's monotone. Mr. Ladowski raised his eyebrows.

"Mr. Barton?"

"There's a mouse in the corner," Clint said calmly, pointing to the back of the room where, sure enough, a mouse was running around.

Needless to say, that class was very interesting and, when it was over, Natasha found herself walking to the gym with Clint and his friend Tony. They were telling some story about their friend Steve and this other guy Thor. No, Thor wasn't his real name, everybody just called him that. Anyways, this Steve guy had apparently taken Thor's special hammer that he used for his woodshop class, and there was this huge argument between them. Natasha just smiled and nodded throughout the entire story and tried to tune them out.

"And then, Bruce got involved, which pretty much broke up the whole thing because nobody wanted to get him angry," Tony was saying.

"Who's Bruce?" Natasha asked vaguely.

"A pretty awesome science geek that you do _not_ want to make angry," Tony explained. Clint laughed.

"Yeah, I think he turns a little green whenever he gets mad," he said, shooting a pencil so hard with his rubber band, it lodged in a door at the end of the hallway.

"Barton, you're gonna get in trouble for that," Tony said, snapping Clint's fingers with the rubber band. Clint smirked and rolled his eyes.

"Eh," Clint said, pulling the pencil out of the door.

"Welp, gotta split," Natasha said, walking in the gym doors. The two boys watched her go, and then started talking about their lesson at youth last night.

After Natasha spent a good ten minutes explaining to the coach that she didn't mind being put in wrestling, and to not take it easy on her, he allowed her to go change. The boys were looking at her like she was crazy, and she smirked at them. If they only knew what they were getting into.

The locker rooms were in a state of disarray. There were a few dirty showers, bathroom stalls that didn't smell so hot, and the tiles were cracked. Natasha didn't mind, though. She had slept in more dilapidated places than that before. She shivered as changed into her shorts; it was freezing in this school, and Natasha found herself wishing she had brought a jacket.

"_Note to self: Bring jacket," _she thought, heading up the stairs back to the gym. She was the first person changed, which almost made her laugh.

**OoOOoO**


	2. The one with the HAMMER!

**A/N: What did you think? Good, bad, DELETE IT FOREVER AND NEVER WRITE AGAIN?! Okay, just kidding on that last one (: OH! This chapter starts off right where the last one left off, only she already wrestled the boys. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers or the cover I'm using for the story. It was one I found on Google.**

"Natalie, have you done this before?" the coach asked Natasha. He was obviously impressed with her. Natasha smiled at him and looked at the wrestling mat. She had taken out all of the boys with ease. The looks on their faces were hilarious.

"I've never wrestled, but I've had my fair share of tough situations before," she said, not wanting to give the coach too much information about her. He just nodded and started yanking groaning boys to their feet.

"You can go change," he said, pointing to the locker room. Grinning, Natasha headed down the stairs, skipping a few. She peeled her sweaty shirt and shorts off of her and changed back into the clothes she was wearing earlier. Surprisingly, her hair looked better than it had before school started. She shivered some more and rubbed her arms, trying to get rid of the chill bumps. She would remember a jacket tomorrow, that's for sure.

Natasha headed off to her next class, praying that she would know somebody in this one. Maybe Brittany had science third period, or maybe that Clint guy from before. She wondered if he was still shooting pencils with his rubber band. He was scarily accurate with those pencils.

With some difficulty, Natasha found the science lab, and for the first time, she was actually early. There were a couple of other students already in there, and they eyed her warily. Natasha was used getting looks by the students at Lake Norman by now; they had been doing it all morning. She sat down at a table in the back. There were three people to a table in the science lab. Natasha pulled out a piece of paper and started doodling on it. By the time she noticed more students coming in the classroom, she had drawn a huge cross and the words _The Avengers _in bubble letters. She didn't know what they meant, but they sounded cool. Natasha folded the paper up and stuffed it in her binder; she didn't want anybody to see it.

"You're really bad at drawing bubble letters." A familiar voice came from behind her. She whirled around in her chair, legs tensed. Then, she saw who it was.

"Oh, you. How did you see that?" Natasha asked, moving her stuff over so Clint could have a chair. He jerked his thumb backward.

"Cafeteria," he said, pointing to the windows of the science class. Natasha could see the cafeteria through them, but it was pretty far away from where they were.

"What, do you have hawk vision or something?" she asked curiously, eyebrows raised.

"Actually, I do," Clint said with a mischievous smile.

"Your vision is 20/2?" Natasha was very skeptical. Clint just nodded, oblivious to her skepticism.

"Uh-huh. You might wanna move over…that's where Thor usually sits," he said, patting the spot next to him.

"There's a guy here named Thor?"

"Well, his name is really Tyler, but everybody calls him Thor."

"Why?"

"You'll see. And don't mess with his hammer. Thor loves his hammer," Clint said, just as Natasha's phone vibrated. Her nostrils flared when she saw who the caller was.

**(A/N: Okay, I'm not going to type the next few sentences in Russian because A: I can't, and B: I don't know how to speak Russian. Just assume that the entire phone conversation is in Russian except for when Natasha says her name). **

"Natasha Romanoff," she said quietly, praying that Clint hadn't heard her.

"We need you," a gruff voice answered.

"What do you need?"

"Are you in America?"

"You know I am, Saladounikov. You sent me here."

"Just making sure. I need you to get info on your principal. She could be who I'm looking for."

"Who are you looking for?"

"Not of your concern. Report to me in a week."

"What do I need to find?"

"Anything you can."

"K, bye," Natasha said, shutting her phone. _Love you too, dad._

**OoOOoO**

Clint was looking at the girl he knew to be Natalie curiously. That was the second time today she had mentioned the name Natasha Romanoff. He wondered if there was something she wasn't telling him about herself. He didn't get a chance to ask her about it, because Thor walked in the class at that exact moment.

"HAMMER!" Thor bellowed, sitting down roughly in his seat. He looked at Natalie and narrowed his eyes.

"Did you touch my Hammer?" Natalie turned to Clint, who had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing at her facial expression.

"Nope, I didn't touch your hammer. It's Thor, right?" Natalie asked, managing to keep her voice calm.

"Good. Nobody messes with my Hammer. It's my Hammer. Mine," Thor said, patting the large hammer he had tucked in a belt loop.

"So I've heard," said Natalie.

"HEY!" Thor shouted, making Clint jump.

"HEY!" Natalie yelled back, just as loud. She ignored Mr. Hirk, who was looking at them disapprovingly from his desk.

"Do you know Jesus?!"

"Yes!"

"Awesome!"

"Indeed!" Natalie said, not missing a beat with Thor's ADHD brain. Mr. Hirk called roll and started talking about atoms or something like that. Clint wasn't really all that much attention; he was more interested in what Natalie was writing down in her notebook.

_What do I need to know about Mrs. Klein? What isn't Dad telling me? He sent me here for other reasons besides wanting me to be "normal". I need to find out which teachers are closest to her, why they were hired, and what they teach. I need to drop wrestling; I can't have any questions being asked about me. Figure out when Klein started working here, who hired her, what changes she's made to the school since she was hired. Also figure out where she lived before here, does she have any connections with Anton Saladounikov or any of his aliases? Think of ways to interrogate her without her catching on, but wait until you have good questions to ask. Call Dad again and ask for more specifics. _

Well. That was weird. There were around eighteen million questions in Clint's head, and he wanted them answered. He knew he couldn't ask Natalie yet though, because she wouldn't tell him, and because she would find out that he had looked over her shoulder when she was writing that down. He wasn't sure he wanted her to know that yet. He glanced back down at Natalie's notebook. She had flipped to the very back, and there was a picture taped to the last page. Clint almost didn't recognize her in the picture; she had light blonde hair and was wearing a black spandex suit. The suit had a belt with all sorts of little things stuck in it, she was carrying twin pistols, and she had the same boots on in the picture as she did now. She looked pretty dangerous in that picture, but Clint saw the necklace sticking over the collar of the suit. It was a silver cross, shining in the light of the sun.

"You look different with blonde hair." The words came out of Clint's mouth before he realized it. Natalie didn't act like she was surprised. Had she known he was looking over her shoulder that whole time? Embarrassiiinnnng.

"I dyed it red before I came here," she explained, her voice a whisper.

"Why is Mr. Hirk giving you the death stare?" Clint asked, glancing at their teacher, who was looking at Natalie with very mad eyes.

"I don't know, he's been doing that the whole class."

"He's usually pretty easygoing," Clint said. He saw a flicker of worry pass briefly through Natalie's eyes.

"Need I remind you, Barton, there is no talking in class," Mr. Hirk said, his eyes remaining on Natalie. Clint saw her shiver out of the corner of his eye. She had been doing that the whole class.

"So, does that mean that you can't lecture us anymore since there's no talking in class?" Clint said. Mr. Hirk's face went red and he looked a little confused.

"Barton," he growled.

"That's my name," Clint said. He put his hand over his ribs to prevent Natalie's elbow from hitting them. She shot him a _shut up!_ look.

"Right," said Mr. Hirk, clearing his throat. "Mendeleev's model of the periodic table wasn't very accurate because a lot of the elements we know of now were not discovered at the time he was alive…" he continued his lecture to the disappointment of many of his students. They all groaned and turned back to face him, pencils in hand. Clint looked over at Natalie, who was looking at him like he had gone nuts.

"You are so stupid!" she murmured.

"You were smiling," he said defensively. Her lips twitched.

"Shut up-" she began to say, but was cut off by Mr. Hirk.

"Did you have something to say, miss Romanoff?" he asked, curling his lip. Clint's eyebrows rose in shock, and he looked at Natalie, who's facial expression was indifferent. Romanoff? That was the third time he had heard that name. She was definitely hiding something from them.

"It's Rushman, not Romanoff," Natalie corrected. Mr. Hirk narrowed his eyes at her; he seemed to be deciding if she was lying or not.

"Uh-huh." Mr. Hirk sounded like he didn't believe her at all. "Give my regards to your father." Natalie's back stiffened and she went back to writing notes on the periodic table.

Clint was going to have to figure out this Natalie Rushman/Natasha Romanoff business.


	3. The one with an arrow to the foot

**A/N: I checked Fanfiction yesterday morning and I almost died when I saw the reviews, follows, and favorites! You guys rock! And I have cake!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers.**

Natasha didn't know what to think of Mr. Hirk. _Give my regards to your father_? And he called her Romanoff? No, something wasn't right, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Thor was drawing pictures of hammers all in his binder. What was she supposed to do now? Did she tell her dad about this, or did she keep it a secret? Did she follow Mr. Hirk and figure out how he knows her father? Natasha turned to the page in her notebook where she was writing down her plans. Yes, she knew Clint was seeing everything right now, but she didn't mind. She almost wanted him to know; she had kept her true identity a secret from so many people in her life, it was almost a relief to have somebody else know who she really was. Or, to have somebody curious as to who she was; she could tell that Clint was contemplating asking her about her name, and she couldn't blame him. If the situation were reversed, she would be doing the same thing. The bell rang for lunch, startling Natasha out of her thoughts.

"Come on," Clint said, dragging Natasha out of the room by her bag. "You have to meet Steve and Bruce and…" his voice was lost in the chaos of 3,000+ high school students trying to get to lunch at the same time.

"Are there more hammers?" Natasha asked, eyeing Thor, who was talking to a pretty girl with brown hair. He was twirling his hammer in his hand. Clint laughed.

"No, there are no more hammers, but Steve is completely obsessed with WW2 and football. Then there's Bruce. He's a pretty cool guy, but don't make him angry, or he'll go all Hulk on you. That isn't fun," Clint said, avoiding a random German Shepard walking down the hall. Wait, a _dog_?

"He loses control and turns green?" Natasha asked, her eyes on the German Shepard. "Why is there a dog?"

"What dog?" Clint turned to see the German Shepard disappear around a corner. "Oh, that's just Boner," he said casually. Natasha felt her eyebrows raise at least as high to the sky. Maybe a little higher.

"_Boner_? Who names a dog Boner?"

"It all started with a mispronunciation of a name, and grew from there."

"Okaaay," Natasha said disbelievingly, shaking her head. They finally managed to break through the mass of students at the cafeterias door. Natasha felt a few pairs of eyes on her, but she was getting used to it by now. She saw Brittany laughing about something at a table, and Natasha flashed her a smile.

"Heeey, it's that chick from second period," said the guy Natasha remembered to be Tony. He slung his arm around her shoulders and led her to a table. "It's Natalia, right?"

"Natalie," Natasha corrected. All these names were beginning to give her a headache.

"Can I call you Libby?"

"Libby? How did you get that from Natalie?"

"Salt."

"Pepper."

"Somebody say my name?" a girl sitting beside Tony asked. Tony forgot all about Natasha and trapped Pepper in a hug.

"Pepper dear! Haven't seen you since yesterday, old girl!" Tony yelled.

Natasha turned to Clint, who just shrugged and went back to examining a thick rubber black glove, only it wasn't really a glove; it covered just two fingers.

"What's that for?" Natasha asked softly. Clint pulled the glove on his hand and started bending his fingers, the rubber making a squeaking noise as he moved.

"It's a guard that prevents me from getting welts on my hand when I shoot my bow," he explained, his eyes lighting up in excitement.

"Bow? Like, archery?" Natasha asked curiously. Now that you mention it, he did have the arm muscle to be an archer, and the eyesight. His eyesight was freakishly good.

"Yeah, I've been doing it my whole life, and I started this club thingy here," he said, rising from the table. "Come on, I'll show you, and we might see Steve out there, he usually plays football during lunch." Natasha threw away her uneaten lunch and followed Clint outside, blinking in the bright sunshine. They passed a tall guy wearing glasses on their way out; he nodded a hello to Clint.

"That's Bruce," he whispered when they were out of earshot.

**OoOOoO**

Kevin Hirk watched as Clint led Natalie out to the football field. He needed to call Nick, ASAP. He had finally found the girl they had been looking for, and a person that could be beneficial to helping them get rid of her.

**OoOOoO**

"So, I just shoot it?" Natalie asked, looking at Clint with huge, gray eyes.

"Yeah, that's kind of the idea," he answered, pulling back the string on his bow. He loved the thing; it was huge, black, and packed a lot of power because the string was weighted. Not many people could pull the string back. He watched as Natalie let go of the string, the blunt arrow falling straight down onto her foot.

"Oww. Was that supposed to happen?" she asked, glaring at the arrow. Clint was laughing; he just couldn't help it. Natalie had done everything right, and he had no idea why the arrow fell straight down, but it was still funny because of her reaction.

"No, this is what's supposed to happen," said Clint, still smiling. He loosed an arrow with a _swoosh_. It lodged right in the center of the bulls-eye, which is where his arrows usually landed.

"Oh, shut up," Natalie said, elbowing him in the ribs. At that exact same moment, a football shot over the stadium lights and nailed her right in the head.

"Oh! Karma!" Clint yelled, holding his stomach from laughing so hard. _Great aim, Steve_.

"Did that seriously just happen? Who threw that?" Natalie demanded, her hands on her hips.

"Probably Steve," Clint answered, still laughing. She glared at him and hurled the football back in the direction it came from. They heard a faint "Thanks!" in reply.

"I just took an arrow to the foot and a football to the head!" Natalie whined, rubbing her forehead and foot at the same time. Clint just smirked at her. He felt eyes on them, and he was trying to figure out who they belonged to. Nobody was in the stadium but them, Steve was on the practice field on the other side of the woods, so it could only be somebody in the school. Clint turned his eyes to the school building, using the advantage of his extraordinarily good vision to see inside the windows. His attention immediately fell to Mr. Hirk's science room, and sure enough, he was looking back and forth from Natalie to Clint. He had a smile of satisfaction on his face, like he had just won the lottery…twice. Clint turned back to Natalie; he was going to tell her what he saw, but her phone buzzed. She checked the screen and grimaced. Clint wondered if it was the same person she had talked to earlier.

"Romanoff," she practically whispered. Clint knew she didn't want him to hear, so he quickly grabbed another arrow from his quiver and started fitting it to his bowstring.

"I don't know, I haven't gotten a chance yet!" Natalie said, pausing for the other person to speak. "Well, you know, I do have _school_. That's why you told me you sent me here, remember?" Another pause. "Do you know anything about a Kevin Hirk? No, Dad, listen. He called me Romanoff, and he asked to give you his regards." Her voice was urgent now, and Clint really wished he could hear what the other person was saying. "H-he's from where?" Natalie asked, her face bloodless. She looked terrified. "What do I do?" These pauses were slowly killing Clint from the inside out. "Okay, okay yeah. Right. Ignore him, investigate Klein. Stay under the radar. Bye," Natalie said, still looking very scared. She ran her fingers through her hair and took several deep breaths. She closed her eyes for a few minutes, and Clint could see her trembling. He wanted to know who she was so scared of, which reminded him of something. He still wanted to find out about the whole name thing.

Who was Natalie Rushman, and what didn't she want people to know about her?

**OoOOoO**

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Natasha. She managed to say her name right for the rest of the day, which was awesome. There was just one little kernel of fear hiding in her, and she wanted it out, but there was a problem. She didn't exactly know what –or who- she was afraid of. She was more scared of the suspicion that people were after her. It had been weighing on the back of her mind for years, but nothing had ever happened. Of course, she had hidden herself anyways. She couldn't risk being caught by _them_.

Natasha had no idea what her plan was. Saladounikov –yes, Saladounikov was her dad- wanted her to report to him in a week, but he hadn't told her what to look for. Also, there was Hirk. What were the odds of having two people she needed to investigate at the same school where her father conveniently chose to send her? No, there was definitely something up with this, especially if Hirk was an agent for _them_. The question was, whom was she going to investigate first? The principal, the teacher, or both? After about three seconds of contemplation, Natasha decided she would investigate both. But, she'd need help, which aroused another question. Who could she trust to help her with this? She would only need help with Hirk; the principal would be easy.

Well, Natasha got a chance to meet the principal earlier than expected. She had to visit the office to get her schedule changed, unfortunately. Natasha _liked_ wrestling and she didn't want to change it, but if she didn't, it could blow her cover. She walked in through the clear glass doors, stepped over Boner's sleeping figure in the middle of the floor, and set her schedule down on the desk in front of Mrs. Griffiths.

"It seems you were right; I really need to get my schedule changed from wrestling," Natasha said, smiling sweetly. _Please, God let her change it. _

"Uh-huh, I thought you would be back in here, hon. What would you like to change it to?" _Yes! Thank you!_

"What are my options?" Natasha hoped that she wouldn't be put in knitting or something. Ugh, that would be torture.

"Knitting," Mrs. Griffiths said. What? Noo! "Oh, and there's one more that I nearly forgot about. Office assistant."

"Office assistant? Like, I would work in here?" Natasha asked. She might not have to do knitting? Yes! _Thank you Lord_!

"That's the idea," said Mrs. Griffiths, who was marking out Wrestling and writing Office Assistant on Natasha's schedule.

"Thank you," said Natasha gratefully.

"Although, I think Coach Connors will be pretty disappointed. He was talking about how he had the best wrestler in the state earlier," she said, her eyes glinting. Natasha just smiled and thanked her again. She really wanted to get out of the office.

"Oh, you'll need to meet Mrs. Klein now, her office is just across from that bookshelf there. Tell her you're her new office assistant, dear," Mrs. Griffiths said, pointing a wrinkled hand at a closed door behind her desk. Natasha clicked on the small recorder she always kept in her pocket. She could run Mrs. Klein's voice through her computer and look for possible matches later. Natasha knocked on the door self-consciously, wondering if the principal had suddenly decided to take a vacation to Hawaii, when the door opened. She shyly stuck her head in the doorway, smiling at the lady sitting behind a computer.

"Hi, I'm your new office assistant," Natasha said, keeping her voice quiet along with the atmosphere of the office.

"Oh, wonderful! I'm Mrs. Klein, and you are…?" Mrs. Klein said loudly, nearly making Natasha jump.

"Natalie," Natasha said, mentally patting herself on the back. Yeah, she said her name right. Or wrong, whichever way you want to look at it.

"Great! When are you in here?"

"I have this second period."

"So, I can't make you run errands for me now? Well, darn," Mrs. Klein said, frowning. "I'll set you to work tomorrow, then!"

"I'll look forward to it," said Natasha, smiling. She liked Mrs. Klein. What could her father suspect her of?

**OoOOoO**

Mrs. Klein dropped the happy principal act as soon as Natalie was out of the room. She didn't know what Anton Saladounikov was up to. He sent his _daughter_ to spy on her? As if _that_ was going to work. Natalie Rushman wasn't going to find anything on her, she was completely clean. Or, at least, she was at this school.

Tanya Klein had work to do.

**A/N: I can't decide who I want Klein to be! Should she be like, a jewel thief or something? Message me suggestions? (:**


	4. The one with a Black Widow?

**A/N: Update, update, update! Woohoo! **

**Bible verse of the day! "We live by faith, not sight".**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers **

The second day of school was better than the first. There were no more awkward introductions, mainly because everybody seemed to magically figure out who she was overnight. People pointed at her when she walked in the auditorium in the morning –everybody had to go sit in the auditorium until school started- and sat with Brittany. They whispered her name, which reminded her that she was Natalie, not Natasha. Normally, whenever Natasha went under an alias, she remembered it easily. There was just something different about this time, something she couldn't explain. It was very weird.

"You seemed to make friends quickly yesterday," Brittany said, glancing up from her math homework. Natasha could tell that she had procrastinated by the stressed look on her face.

"I made two, but Clint dragged me along to meet all of his friends. They don't count yet; they barely know my name," Natasha said, trying to read Brittany's math homework upside down.

"I thought I saw you with him," said Brittany slyly, punching numbers into her calculator.

"He's in a couple of my classes," Natasha muttered, wondering what Brittany was up to.

"Uh-huh. He's a total hottie!" Brittany giggled, punching Natasha in the shoulder. _What_ did she just say?

"No!" Natasha yelled, a bit too loudly. She drew attention from the people sitting a couple rows above her.

"Shh!" they hissed, glaring at her. Natasha furrowed her brow and looked to Brittany, who was suppressing laughter. All it took was one look **(A/N: Hey, that rhymed!)** and the girls burst into laughter that simply refused to stop. Natasha couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard. Actually, she couldn't remember the last time she had really laughed, not just a chuckle.

"Y-your face!" Brittany gasped, clutching her stomach.

"Shut up! You surprised me!" Natasha replied, struggling for air. She had made the mistake of drinking some water, and now she was practically choking, but all she and Brittany could do was laugh.

"I want to be included in this laughter!" A voice came from the aisle. A tall, muscled guy plopped down in a seat beside Natasha.

"Hey, Steve," Brittany said, having regained enough composure to talk.

"Sup? It's Natalie, isn't it?" he asked, directing his attention to Natasha. She managed to keep herself from giggling long enough to say yes.

"Are you guys going to tell me what you were laughing about?" Steve asked, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Nope," Natasha said. "You hit me in the head with a football yesterday!"

"That was you?!" Steve exclaimed, getting Natasha to laugh all over again. "I'm sorry, I thought that was Clint!"

"I was with Clint, and I had just accidentally shot myself in the foot with an arrow –don't ask- and he was like "Yeah, watch me hit the bulls-eye". I elbowed him, and then your football shot over the trees and slammed straight into my forehead!" Natasha explained, giggling the whole time. Yesterday was such a funny day.

"Y-you shot yourself in the _foot_?" Steve asked, shaking from laughter.

"Maybe," Natasha said, glancing over her shoulder and then nearly jumping straight out of her seat. "When did you get there?" she asked Clint, who was staring at them all with a bemused expression.

"She shot herself in the foot, all right. I still don't know how that happened," Clint said, shaking his head and sitting beside Steve. He smiled at Natasha, who felt her heart beat just a smidge faster.

"Maybe she was holding it wrong or something," Steve suggested. Clint rolled his eyes at him.

"I would've seen that," he said, completely sure of himself.

"You sure about that, Hawkeye?" Steve asked, eyebrows raised.

"Hawkeye?" Natasha and Brittany asked at the same time.

"Yup. He has hawk vision," Tony supplied, sitting down behind them.

"Like, 20/20?" Brittany asked, waving to Pepper as she made her way down the aisle. Tony moved his stuff over to make a spot for her.

"Better than that," Clint said.

"Isn't the best human vision 20/8?" Natasha asked, twisting a strand of her hair.

"Yeah probably, but mine's 20/2-" Clint started to say, but he was cut off by the bell. Groaning, the group made their way to homeroom.

**OoOOoO**

Clint slid the note to Natalie, keeping out of view of Mr. Ladowski's wandering eyes. **(A/N: Once again, the bold italics is Clint and the plain italics is Natasha)**.

"Nat," he whispered. She jumped a little, and then saw the note. She shot him a questioning look; he motioned for her to read it.

_**Are you going to tell me about the name thing yesterday?**_

___I thought you said you weren't going to ask._

_**I wasn't, but then I got curious. **_

___Don't be curious._

_**Why not?**_

___Because it could involve you in a lot of stuff that you probably don't want to be involved in, Clint. _

_**Natalie, I don't really care. What would I get involved in?**_

___At the moment, I'm not really sure. It kind of depends on who people really are versus who they say they are. _

_**Pleeeeeaaaseeee? **_

___Well, since you asked nicely, NO!_

_**Who is Natasha Romanoff, Natalie? **_

___Why does it matter?_

_**It matters because I choose to make it matter. **_

Natalie crumpled up the paper and lobbed it at the trashcan, keeping it out of view of Mr. Ladowski, who was writing Russian letters on the board.

"I'm not telling you," she hissed.

"You don't have to," Clint said, trying not to make her mad.

"Then why did you ask?" Did she sound mad?

"Because I wanted to know," he said simply.

"Why did you want to know?" No, she didn't sound mad. _Phew_. Then, what did she sound like?

"You say your name's Natalie Rushman, but you wrote Natasha Romanoff down on your paper, you used that name when you answered the phone, and Mr. Hirk called you Romanoff," Clint said, watching Natalie's eyes flash dangerously. _Please, God. Don't let her get mad. _

"Natalie!" Mr. Ladowski said happily. Natalie grimaced and turned to him.

"Yes?" she asked, her slightly upset tone changing to an I-am-a-good-student-I-promise tone.

"Translate this for me," he said. Clint could tell he picked Natalie because he knew she wasn't paying attention. He didn't know that Natalie could speak Russian fluently, however. Haha!

"Students should pay attention in class or they will mess up when translating sentences like this," Natalie translated. Clint watched Mr. Ladowski's smug expression turn to shock.

"Fine, good job," he said. Natalie smiled at him and turned back to Clint, who was trying not to laugh.

"Nice one," Clint mouthed. Natalie narrowed her eyes at him and turned away. She didn't talk to him for the rest of the period, leaving Clint with more questions than answers.

**OoOOoO**

"Sir, it's her," Kevin Hirk said into his cell phone.

"Are you sure Kevin? You've messed up on us how many times now? And I was kind enough to let you stay at your post," Fury replied, thinking that they couldn't possibly be lucky enough to have caught Anton Saladounikov's daughter.

"Positive, sir. Saladounikov sent her here to catch Klein. He's a very powerful ally, you know."

"I _know_, Hirk. I was the one that enlisted him. He is no longer a threat to us, but his daughter is. She must be eliminated, and it must be done while she's there," Fury said, wondering what else Hirk was going to tell us.

"I have the perfect person to do that, sir. You need to see him," Hirk said.

"Who is it?"

"Gotta go, somebody's coming," said Hirk, slamming his phone shut as his next class started straggling in his room.

**OoOOoO**

Natasha had no idea what to do. Should she tell Clint the truth and risk everything that comes with that? Or should she avoid telling him and act like nothing had ever happened? Somehow, she seemed to think he might not like the second idea too much, but she was scared. Never, in her entire life, had there been somebody curious about her. She had never made friends who wanted to know who she really was, and who would still be her friend even if she were a Black Widow. That named described Natasha well; she was somebody that nobody wanted to mess with. At least, if they knew all of her secrets. Even her father treated her like he would rather her not be around.

Nobody had ever laughed with her before, nobody had ever been genuinely nice to her, and nobody had made her laugh like she did this morning. Not one person had ever called her anything other than the name she was going by in her entire life. That is, until Clint called her Nat in Ladowski's class. The name was foreign to her; she almost didn't answer to it, but then she realized that he was talking to her. He wanted to know who she was, and she wanted him to know who she was, but would he be repulsed? Would he still want to know her, or would she become a Black Widow to him too?


	5. The one where BANANAS are in EARS!

**A/N: We talked about dogs dying in English class today. ): I must cheer up and write another chapter! Review :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, Behind These Hazel Eyes, Charlie the Unicorn, or Progresso soup. **

Natasha was having a very strange dream. She was taking a psychology test on the values of chocolate cake, and it didn't have a chapter in the huge book she had to read. She was freaking out and praying because she was getting all of the answers wrong, and her teacher couldn't help her because she was in New York. Then, a steaming bowl of Progresso soup appeared in front of her, which caused Natasha to immediately forget about the test so she could devour the soup. There was also a white cat with gray stripes walking around her chair that was swatting at her feet and singing Behind These Hazel Eyes in a loud, meowish sounding voice.

_Just put a banana in you EAAAAR! Put a ripe banana right into your favorite EAAR! It's true, so true; once it's in your ear your gloom will disappear. The bad in the world is hard to hear when in your banana cheers, so put a banana in your EEAAAR!_

"Hu-what?" Natasha murmured sleepily, searching for her phone underneath her pillow. Put a banana in your ear? What was that about? She didn't pay attention to what buttons she was tapping, and whenever she got a good look at the screen, somebody's face was staring back at her.

"Whaddayawan?" Natasha asked the face grumpily, rubbing her eyes. It was a _Saturday_! This was not the time to be woken up. The face laughed at her, and Natasha glared at it.

"Natalie, it's 10:30," the face said, sniggering.

"Wh-_Clint_?" Natasha asked, staring at the screen. Sure enough, the face belonged to Clint Barton. She shot him a sleepy-eyed glare.

"You look so cute in the morning!" he teased.

"Uhh, go away," Natasha muttered, flopping back down on her pillow.

"But I'm boooored," Clint complained.

"And I'm supposed to help that how?" Natasha asked, giving up on falling back asleep. She slid off of her bed, turned her phone face down so Clint couldn't see her, and changed out of her pajamas.

"Come to the coffee shop!" Clint suggested, twirling a spoon in his hand. Natasha rolled her eyes at him. Clint worked in a coffee shop on Saturdays that only got business on weekdays because students hung out there after school.

"I have homework, though," Natasha countered, tugging a brush through her impossibly tangled hair.

"I can help you! Pleeaasseeeeeee, Nat?" he pleaded. Oh, darn. It was hard for Natasha to say no whenever he used her nickname, and Clint knew it. That cheater.

"Fine," Natasha huffed, putting toothpaste on her toothbrush. The orthodontist said she could get her braces off in three months! Natasha was pretty sure braces were the root of most evil.

"You rock," Clint said with a smile, "How long will you be?"

"Fifteen minutes and 9 seconds," Natasha said, grabbing her boots and shoving them on her feet. "I better get a free brownie for this, Barton."

"One free brownie coming your way!" he promised. Natasha hung up the phone and headed outside, enjoying the feeling of the warm sunshine on her skin. Clint had given up his "who is Natasha Romanoff" thing in the past couple of weeks, which was both a relief and kind of depressing. For a few days, Natasha had really felt like he cared about who she was, but now, they were just crazy friends.

Things were going south with Klein. Natasha just couldn't get any dirt on her at all. It was like she knew why Natasha was there, and she was preventing any secrets getting out. It was really annoying for Natasha, who had gone so far as putting her recorder on the back of one of Mrs. Klein's paintings in her office. She had a lot of those, and they were really expensive ones, too. Natasha had done some research on them, and good copies cost at least 2,000 bucks. That was a big spend for a high school principal, especially when there were twelve hanging in her room.

**OoOOoO**

Clint was wiping the counter down whenever the tinkling sound of a bell came to his ears. The coffee shop was downstairs, and he could see Natalie making her way down, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. He wasn't kidding whenever he said Natalie looked cute in the morning, because she did. Her hair was always sticking up all over the place and he couldn't tell if her eyes were blue or gray. He grabbed a brownie from a glass container and set it down on a napkin, just like he said he would do. Natalie had this scary addiction to brownies that couldn't be explained.

"I don't want to admit it, but you're awesome," Natalie said, stuffing half the brownie in her mouth.

"Well, you know. I encourage a healthy breakfast," Clint said, shaking his head at her. Well, brownies _did_ have eggs in them, so Clint guessed that counted towards the whole "eggs and bacon for breakfast" thing. It was close enough.

"Why was my phone singing about a banana in somebody's ear when you facetimed me?" she asked, licking her fingers.

"I changed your ringtone to Charlie the Unicorn!" Clint exclaimed. Charlie the Unicorn was fantastic.

"Am I supposed to know what that is…?"

"Um, yes!"

"I had the weirdest dream last night!" Natalie said, forgetting all about Charlie the Unicorn. "It was about singing cats, psychology tests on chocolate cake, and Progresso soup."

"What were you thinking about when you went to bed?" Clint asked, incredulous.

"Not singing cats and psychology, that's for sure!" Natalie said, laughing. The bell rang again, signaling that a customer was coming downstairs.

"Whoa, it's Mrs. Klein," Clint said, looking down the stairs. Natalie suddenly looked scared, and she hopped over the counter and hid in the back room. "What are you doing?"

Natalie gave him a _shut up_ look. "Hiding!" she hissed, putting a finger over her mouth. Oo-kay, if she wanted to hide from their principal, it was fine with Clint, even if it was a little weird.

"Oh, hi Mr. Barton," Mrs. Klein said, looking over the counter at Clint. Her eyes flickered to the back room, where Natalie was keeping out of view. Clint had the sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Klein knew Natalie was there. "Can I have that drink with German chocolate in it?" She sounded vague, like she really didn't care what she was going to drink. She was obviously more interested in what was in the back room.

"Sure, that's 3.79," Clint said, going in the back to make it.

"Uh-huh," Mrs. Klein answered.

Clint put all of the materials in the blender and started it before looking for Natalie. She was extremely good at hiding; Clint had to double check every place big enough to fit a person twice before he saw her, scrunched up in a cabinet.

"Why are you hiding?" he asked, his voice in a hushed tone.

"Tell you after she's gone," Natalie said, her eyes darting to the blender.

"Promise?"

"Yeah."

Clint shut the cabinet door and shut off the blender. Mrs. Klein was giving him a questioning look, which he ignored.

"Here you go," Clint muttered, handing her a cup. She slid some money across the counter and waited for her change, tapping long red fingernails against each other.

"Thank you," she said cheerfully. She shot one more searching look towards the back room, and left, whispering something that sounded like "stupid Russian spies" to herself. Russian _spies_? Natalie owed him an explanation. Now.

**OoOOoO**

Tanya Klein knew Clint was hiding something, and she was pretty sure that something was Natalie Rushman. No, actually, it was Natasha Romanoff. She remembered when that infernal child was born and shattered Anton's heart because she took his wife away from him. Natasha's mother had been sick throughout the whole pregnancy; surely Anton knew she wouldn't make it through childbirth? Or was he naïve enough to believe otherwise? Ever since then, Anton had become harder towards Tanya, especially when he figured out what she did. That was when she had gone into hiding, and she had stayed hidden for fifteen years. She was doing a good job of keeping her trail cold for Natasha, but the girl was smart. She couldn't stay in the dark forever.

**OoOOoO**

"Now," Clint said, pouring two glasses of water. "What was that all about?" He looked right into Natalie's eyes, and she stared right back at him. She didn't even blink.

"Is there security cameras in here?" she inquired, glancing at the ceiling. Clint shook his head. There was no point in having cameras in a place this small. "Cool. So, I need you to promise me, and when I say promise, I mean _promise_, you won't tell anybody at the school about this. I have to keep this a secret. I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

"I promise, Nat. I'm a pretty good secret keeper," Clint said, squeezing her shoulder. She rubbed her temples, and he wondered what he was getting himself into.

"First off," she began apprehensively. "My name isn't Natalie Rushman. It's Natasha Romanoff, but I think you already knew that." Clint nodded slowly. He thought he was right in assuming Natasha was her name, but he wanted her to tell him. "You already know I'm Russian?"

"Yeah, you told me. Nat, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's just…" Clint trailed off, trying to figure out what he wanted to say next.

"It's just what?"

"I really want to know. Why do you have to hide this stuff from your friends? I want to know the real you, not somebody you say you are." Clint thought he said that pretty well, considering how close Natalie's face was to his right now. Their foreheads were almost touching, and on impulse, Clint reached over and slid both of his hands in hers. She took a deep breath and kept going.

"I don't know if you'll believe me," she whispered.

"Natasha," Clint said, causing her to halfway smile. "I'll believe you."

"Would you believe me if I said I was a spy and my father sent me over here to find out info on Mrs. Klein because he thinks she's some big-time crook that he needs to catch?" she said in a rush, a blush creeping up into her cheeks.

Okay, so maybe Clint wasn't expecting her to say that. He looked in her light gray eyes, and knew that she was telling the truth. "Y-you're a _what_?"

"A spy," she repeated, pressing her forehead against his.

"Okay, so I can deal with that, totally," Clint said. Natasha raised her eyebrows at him.

"Really?" she asked. He could hear the hopefulness in her voice.

"Only if I can help you," he insisted.

"I think we can arrange that," Natasha said, flashing Clint a brace-face smile.

"And just for the record, I like the Natasha better than Natalie."

**A/N: So…he finally knows! Mwahaha! **

**Review! Yes, I said it twice! (Once at the top, once down here).**


	6. The one where the coffee shop goes BOOM

**A/N: I am SO sorry for the slow update. I've had school, swim season, and I've been flat out lazy. Sorry sorry sorry sorry! I shall update as quickly as possible for the next few days to make up for it! I hope you guys can forgive me enough to review! I shall beg a little more at the end of this chapter (:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers or Uno. But I do own Puno!**

"**Good things come to those who wait. "**

Natasha was an idiot. She broke the number one rule of being an undercover agent. _DO NOT TELL_. Her father had drilled it in her head countless times at the academy, and she had completely ignored it. How incredibly _stupid_ was she? But, at the same time, she knew that telling Clint was the right thing to do. Natasha was sick of lying and telling stories to his blue eyes when he deserved the truth. It was starting to eat her from the inside out.

"Nat? You alive?" Clint asked. He was leaning over the counter at the coffee shop, his eyes sharp and focused. Natasha tried to think of something to say, but, looking at him, she couldn't. She wanted to stay like this forever, looking at Clint, all alone in the coffee shop…NO. Nononono. Natasha slumped down to the floor, ignoring Clint's concerned look.

Did she have _feelings_ for Clint? Wonderful. This just made a complicated situation even more…complicateder. Yes. That should be a word. Natasha pushed all of that to the back of her mind. She had more pressing issues to deal with right now.

"What do you know about Klein?" she asked Clint, who was barely containing his excitement. He was very still, but he had a glint in his eye that betrayed the truth.

Clint told her everything. How Klein had just randomly appeared at school one day, announcing that she was their new principal when none of them knew that the old one had quit. She quickly made friends with all of the teachers, but there were a select few that were _always_ in her office. Mr. Ladowski was one of them, although he didn't seem too suspicious at first. She didn't like Mr. Hirk. It was all too obvious. She sneered at him every time she observed his class, but she couldn't fire him because of some contract he had with the president.

Mr. Hirk was quickly going on Natasha's list of people to look out for. She knew he was involved in this somehow, but she couldn't figure out whose side he was on? Was he on Natasha's side? It would make since because of the hatred between him and Klein, but what was with the whole "give your regards to your father" thing on the first day of school? It was like he was trying to reveal her, show her true identity to the whole world. That also made since, considering the people that he worked for.

Natasha didn't like to say the name of the government agency that Hirk worked for. They scared her. They had been searching for her ever since she was nine years old; that was when she first got herself in a bad situation. Things had gone wrong, people had been killed, and Natasha had been blamed. Always the innocent one. But she did have the name Black Widow for a reason.

The most important question of all. Who was Klein working for, and what was she doing here? It had something to do with those paintings in her office; they were too nice, to expensive looking to be ignored.

Was she an art forger? It was too early to tell, but it was an option. Natasha needed a picture of her to run through the database she had back at her house.

"Clint?"

"Yeah?"

"I need you to get a picture of Mrs. Klein. I need it to be a headshot, and as focused as possible." Clint smiled and walked to the back room of the coffee shop. He came back a few seconds later, holding a very small camera.

"I put this on my bow sometimes. It helps me improve my aim if I can see exactly where the arrow is going to go before I release the string." He said. Natasha picked it up to examine it. It was tiny, black, and virtually unnoticeable.

"And it takes pictures?" The whole thing seemed to good to be true. How was he being so cool with this? Had she been so obvious that he guessed she was a spy? Did she need to be more careful around her friends now?

"It does indeed." Clint pocketed the tiny camera. "I feel like a complete stalker right now."

Natasha laughed. It was hard _not_ to feel like a stalker when you spent most of the day following someone, taking notes about their behavior and where they go. "Yeah, you'll get used to it."

She didn't know what to say now. Had she just messed up their new friendship completely? It couldn't be a normal occurrence for week-old friends to suddenly confide in one of the most secret things ever. And what if he was an agent for _them_? What if he was working with Hirk? She couldn't risk being on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar again. Running from people and staying hidden was beginning to become tiresome.

**OoOOoO**

Clint was a good actor. He was managing to play this whole thing off like he was totally cool with it. When really it totally freaked him out. _Natalie was a spy_? And should he even call her Natalie now? Natasha was a better name for her. It somehow fit her better.

He didn't want to tell Natasha to leave, not after she had told him something that huge. Plus he really liked having her here with him. But he wasn't too good at dealing with awkward silences because, well, Clint wasn't the most…non-awkward person. Most every situation with girls, especially one as pretty as Nat, put him on edge. He got all sweaty and couldn't think of anything to say. He just wanted to look at her for hours, but he was afraid that it might creep her out.

So what else would you do when you're stuck in an awkward situation with the prettiest girl on the planet? Call your maniac friends, of course. And beg them to bring hammers, footballs, computers, and something dealing with science. Anything to give Clint's brain a cooling-off period. Because his brain cells seemed to disintegrate when he was around his friends. Oh well. Nobody needed to be smart.

All of them came, even Thor, who was mad because he had to tear himself away from Jane for the afternoon. But then he saw that Clint had cups set out especially for him to smash with his Hammer, and he forgot all about being mad.

Interesting how some people are entertained.

**OoOOoO**

Tanya heard it all. She wasn't stupid enough to leave the coffee house when she _knew_ Natalie –Natasha; whatever- was hiding back there. She thought she could hide. She thought she was a good spy. But she wasn't. Saladounikov had trained Tanya too, and she knew all of the tricks. It was how she had remained hidden for so long.

But what game was Saladounikov playing here? He sent Natasha to spy on her, right? But he also put his daughter right into the hands of S.H.I.E.L.D., and when they had such a high price on her head, that wasn't smart. Especially when they had an agent at the school that she was attending.

Of course, S.H.I.E.L.D. was looking for Tanya too, and she had managed to elude them for a while. So maybe Natalie could do that too. The whole thing was too confusing.

The point was that Clint and Natalie were spying on her, and she wasn't going to make it easy of them. She had all of their personal information, anything that could get them into trouble. And she could make up anything that would get them kicked out of America faster than a cow could moo. So if they thought they were going to get anywhere in this little investigation of theirs, then they were wrong.

It pays to have good friends.

**OoOOoO**

Clint was awesome. It was like he had read Natasha's mind. Just when things were getting a little uncomfortable, he suggested the all-too-perfect idea of calling The Wackos (that was what Natasha had decided to call Thor, Steve, Tony, and Bruce).

It had worked like a charm. Now Natasha was playing a game that they had invented called Puno. It was like poker, which she was normally good at, only they were playing with Uno cards, and they weren't playing for money. They were in it for Thor's Hammer. And he wasn't taking it so well. The poor guy's face was all red and he was sweating like crazy trying to win. He kept stealing glances over at Natasha's cards, which were way worse than his.

"If I win this, I think I'll melt it down for bullets. Yeah! I could totally have World War 2 reenactments with this thing! Did you know that there was a secret weapon making facility in Germany? It was called HYDRA, and they used this cube from another dimension to make weapons that are way beyond our technology today, and apparently the guy had a red face, and-" Steve was cut off by Thor.

"Dude. If you say that you are going to destroy my Hammer one more time, then you shall be SMASHED!" Thor yelled.

"But I like to smash things," Bruce whined.

"Have you guys ever thought about how versatile iron is? I wonder if I could make a suit out of it. And fly! Yes. Flying is cool. I am cool. Therefore I need to fly," Tony said.

"Do you think I could see their cards better if I sat on the chandelier?" Clint wondered.

Natasha gave up with Puno and decided to practice her acrobatics in the middle of the room. Avoiding the tables and chairs was good training for her, and she didn't want to get out of shape what with Clint giving her brownies every time she came here.

They were all so engrossed what they were doing that nobody noticed the man in the black leather trench coat with an eye patch place the bomb in the back room. He set it to go off in twelve minutes, and sneaked out, just like he had never been there.

11:59

11:58

11:57

11:56

Thor won his Hammer back, much to the disappointment of the others.

10:32

10:31

Natasha did a double back handspring over top of three chairs and didn't hurt herself. Clint smiled at her and it made her heart skip a beat.

9:08

Bruce made some gross coffee mix and made everyone try it. They all managed to refrain from throwing up, but it wasn't without effort.

5:19

Tony and Steve sang the Smurf's theme song at the top of their lungs…twice.

:04

:03

:02

:01

:00

The coffee shop blew up, the fire consuming the wooden building in no time at all.

**AN: Cliffhanger! Do they survive? DO THEY DIE? I don't know yet, that was kind of written on impulse. I shall update as soon as possible to earn your forgiveness for both the delay **_**and**_** the cliffhanger! REVIEW (:**


	7. The one with the fire

**A/N: I think I should leave you guys with cliffhangers more often. That was fun! But I did that in my other fic too, so you aren't the only ones! Though you guys **_**did**_** have to wait longer for your update than they did. Sorry! **

_The one with the fire_

Where was Clint? Forget the fire burning through Natasha's hoodie; forget the coffee shop falling down all over the place. _Where was Clint_? She had seen Bruce and Steve and Tony and Thor run out of the door seconds earlier, holding their chests and coughing for air. But Clint was nowhere to be seen, a fact that was making Natasha more panicky by the second.

"Clint!" she tried to yell, but her voice was all dead and cracked sounding. She knew he didn't hear it.

A piece of the roof fell down just in front of her, spraying dust and flames and ashes everywhere. The smoke clouded the air and Natasha fell to the ground where the oxygen was hiding. She crawled along the floor, trying to make it behind the counter, because that was where Clint was the last time she had seen him.

_What caused this_? _Fires don't just _start_, out of the blue_. Natasha was willing to bet anything that S.H.I.E.L.D. had started the fire, because they really had it in for her and they didn't care about who they had to kill as long as they got Natasha. They were ruthless.

"Nat?" she heard a voice call and it warmed her to the core, even more than the flames did.

"Clint!" Natasha shouted back. "Where are you?"

"Kitchen!"

She had to think about that one for a second. Where was the kitchen in all this chaos? Right, over behind all the coffee flavorings that were slowly being melted by the flames. It was cooler in here, less stuffy. The fire hadn't spread over here yet. Clint was sitting on the floor beside a large bucket of water, staring at his leg.

"It got burned," was all he said.

Natasha went to look at it, and saw that it was indeed burned. It wasn't too bad, no bone was visible, but it was definitely going to leave a huge scar. His skin was bright red and swollen inflamed against the burned fabric of his jeans. "I've had worse," Natasha assured him. It was true. She had the scars on her back to prove it.

He gave her a grim smile. "Of course you have."

She frowned. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault."

"No it isn't! Why would this be your fault?"

Natasha wasn't one for crying. It wasn't how she'd been raised. _Bury your emotions_. _Stay strong_. But she couldn't be that strong, perfect girl anymore. The tears were already flowing and the fire seemed to fade away as she sat in the kitchen with Clint. He didn't ask her any more questions, only patted her back awkwardly with one hand.

After a minute or two, Natasha felt like a complete idiot. Was she really sitting in the middle of a burning building, crying her eyes out, with a boy that had a burned leg? America had softened her. She knew exactly what to do in this situation, and after ten seconds of deep breaths, she went to action.

She took off her hoodie, leaving herself in only a spaghetti strapped tank top. It didn't escape her notice that Clint's eyes widened a little bit when he saw how much skin was exposed. The sweatshirt made a great makeshift protection glove and the glass window she smashed out didn't even cut her. She put the hoodie back on and deliberated the best way to get Clint out of here without hurting his leg. Could he stand? Could he walk?

He seemed to know what she was asking before she could even talk. "It'll hold my weight," he said, using the table beside of him to pull himself up. He tested his weight gingerly, leaning on it the tiniest bit. His teeth were clenched tightly and sweat beads popped up on his forehead, but he could walk. Natasha breathed a sigh of relief.

"I can help you walk once we get outside, but I'll have to go first through the window to help pull you out."

He grinned at her. "You think I would let you go last and leave you in a burning building? Darn right you're going first."

Natasha felt herself blush. He was _concerned_ about her. That was new. She pulled herself up and out of the window, surveying the ruins of the main part of the coffee shop. Most of the building had already collapsed- the kitchen was the only part still standing.

"Nat," Clint grunted, reminding Natasha of the more pressing issue of getting her friend out of this unharmed. His hands were holding onto the frame tightly; the uninjured leg was supporting all of his weight. She wrapped her arms around his lower back and half lifted him out of the window. "Jeez, woman. What do you _eat_? You're almost as strong as I am."

Natasha rolled her eyes. He obviously wasn't in much pain if he was making jokes. He knew perfectly well that her diet consisted mostly of his brownies.

**OoOOoO**

Clint was embarrassed. He was a _guy_. He was supposed to rescue the girl from the burning building, not the other way around. How come he was the one that got injured? It wasn't fair.

Although he can't say he was complaining when Natasha insisted on riding with him in the ambulance. Or when they made her take off her sweatshirt again to check her arms for injuries. She had the prettiest shoulders, all pale and smooth and perfect. He wondered if they smelled as good as her hair did. _Not_ that he'd smelled her hair or anything.

What had she meant when she said the fire was her fault? How many more secrets could this girl have? Surely being a spy was her only one, because if she had more, she could possibly explode from the weight of them all. Clint knew he would. And it would be sad if she exploded, cause then he wouldn't get to hear her laugh any more. Her laugh was nice.

Clint knew exactly what Tony would say if he could read his mind. He would say, "dude, she has you _whipped_." But he denied liking Pepper, when it was all too obvious. Maybe Clint should try and hook them up. And he could include Natasha in his plans. That seemed like a reasonable way to get to hang out with her, didn't it?

His leg hurt, but all Clint could think about was how lucky he was that his leg got burned and not his arm. That would have been _awful_. No bows until the burn healed. He couldn't imagine what that would be like- he had been obsessed with archery since he turned four. It was just something he'd grown up with; something that helped made his life worth living. And Natasha. And Jesus. That was about it, since his parents weren't the most _loving_ people in the world.

But that was okay. He didn't really mind. Because if they loved him, then he would have to tell them everything, and Clint just didn't like talking all that much. Natasha was the only person he could stand to have a long conversation with, and that was because he liked the way her eyes glittered when she was talking about some crazy thing she had done in Russia or something.

He felt like he should have held her hand or something when she was crying earlier. But he couldn't make himself do it. What if she didn't want him to? What if she pulled away? So he had settled for patting her back, something that he was regretting more and more now. _She probably thinks I'm weird_.

He remembered his other friends when they got to the hospital. Thor was in a corner, crying because he didn't get his Hammer out. It took all of Clint's strength not to laugh at that one. Poor Thor. He would have to get him a new Hammer, although he doubted it would mean as much to him as the old one had. That Hammer was quite special.

Bruce was green and shaking. He looked furious, but he seemed to be calming himself down, pacing back and forth and taking deep breaths. Tony and Steve were nowhere to be seen, something that scared Clint for a few seconds. Did they not make it out?

"They're fine," Natasha muttered, as if he had said his worries out loud. "I saw all four of them run out before I came looking for you."

He shot her a grateful look. She had ignored the doctors and nurses who had tried to force her onto a stretcher, saying she was fine. She had a small cut on her pinkie finger, her boots were nearly melted, and soot was all over her face, but she still managed to look beautiful.

Clint somehow doubted that he looked that good right now. Especially with the ugly burn on his leg. That was the most embarrassing part of the whole thing. He was the only one that got somewhat seriously injured. Did nobody else see the little bomb explode? He had been nearest to it, but he thought it was just an alarm clock, because who would want to bomb a coffee shop with six teenagers in it? It made no sense.

Unless whoever put the bomb in the shop was after Natasha. That made sense, considering her status as a Russian spy. But she wasn't dangerous. She was _sweet_, not mean. She would never hurt anyone. She had saved Clint's life, something he realized with a cold chill. He would have to think her for that.

"Nat," he whispered, his throat all sore from the smoke. "Thanks."

She raised her eyebrows and looked down the hall before turning back to him. "For what?"

Clint laughed. He couldn't help it. She was so modest sometimes. "You saved my life, dummy."

She blushed, making her cheeks turn the most beautiful shade of red. It made Clint smile. "Uh, you're welcome."

"I owe you now."

She smiled. "So if you ever feel the urge to kill me, just remember that I saved your life first, and you owe me one!"

Clint laughed again. He would always be in debt to Natasha, even though he couldn't think of any reason for why he would want to kill her.

**OoOOoO**

"Sir, the bomb was unsuccessful. They got out," Agent Hirk said, speaking into the walkie-talkie urgently.

Fury cursed. "She's a hard one to stop."

"I suggested something, if you remember."

Fury sighed. "Yes, Hirk, I remember. But he is too young, not even graduated high school yet. And they're friends."

Hirk smiled an evil, menacing smile. "You know as well as I do that we've taken in recruits younger than him, and less promising. And there are always ways to turn friends against each other, Fury."

"Fine. It is time we offered Clint Barton a position at S.H.I.E.L.D.," Fury said. "I hope his shot is as accurate as you say, because that Black Widow is a sneaky one."

"Trust me," Hirk said. "He won't miss."

**A/N: So they survived! And Clint now owes Natasha his life, something that is VERY important to the rest of the story, as you can probably remember from the **_**Avengers**_**. **

**Review! Please!**


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